


Hope Born Among the Stars

by DilynAliceBlake



Series: Nostalgic For Your Love [2]
Category: Star Trek
Genre: M/M, Regret, Sad, Tarsus IV, de aging fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-21
Updated: 2016-07-21
Packaged: 2018-07-25 22:32:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7549822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DilynAliceBlake/pseuds/DilynAliceBlake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I know, and you probably know too, that I haven't finished the work that comes before this one.  My muse is being a shark toothed little bastard right now, and the first chapter of the sequel isn't much more spoilery than the tags of the prequel were.</p><p>I don't know what I'm doing :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hope Born Among the Stars

   “Spock,” Leonard says, “would you care to explain to me why a fourteen year old Jim has a Golic accent?”

  
   “Certainly, Doctor, provided it will assist with your explanation of why Jim is suddenly an adolescent.  An explanation I’m sure you must have if you are using valuable time to ask trivial questions about his speech-“

  
   “ _Can it_ , elf.  He woke up in sickbay all but demanding **you** , but he doesn’t have a clue who **I** am.  Now, if you would be so kind as to tell me; what exactly is the source of all this tension between you two?”

  
   “The matter is somewhat private, Doctor.”

  
   “The hell it is!  Jim has been pining for you since he spotted your pointy ears for the first time at academy, and you’ve been acting like you don’t even notice his existence outside of his ranking office.  Now I come to find out that the kid, quite literally, the _kid_ in that bed will only calm down if given updates on your status by the hour, and speaks some of the most awkwardly mispronounced English I have ever encountered, but more than passable Vulcan.  So no, the matter is _not_ private!  It very much concerns me as his medical professional!”

  
   “If you mean to imply that Jim and I knew one another before Starfleet, such an assumption would be correct.  We were, some time ago, the closest of friends.  I was unaware that my professional behavior was so upsetting to him.”  There was a pause, and as the doctor’s eyes swept over the Vulcan, Spock’s hesitance was plain to see.  “Tell me, Doctor; when Jim says my name, is there anything in particular about his pronunciation?”  The question was quiet, but Leonard knew that if it had Spock showing his feelings so plainly on his face it must be important.

  
   “Yeah,” Bones huffs.  “When he says it in his sleep kid’s got a lisp.  Damn near the cutest thing I’ve ever encountered on duty.”

  
   Spock nods to himself, a stern, resigned movement.

  
   “Then it seems I was erroneous in my assumption that Jim had no desire to resume our friendship.  It appears I owe him an apology.”  Another pause, and Len wants to take a picture of Spock biting his own lip like _he’s_ the adolescent.  A visibly nervous Vulcan is a rare sight indeed.  “I likely owe him more than just an apology.”

  
   Leonard Horatio “Bones” McCoy isn’t sure how exactly the existence of a lisp brought Spock to that conclusion, but he wishes that Jim’s speech were the only notable thing about his fourteen year old self.

  
   “Spock, there’s something else.  Jim, he-” but it’s too late, because Spock has gone into the room and shoved aside Jim’s curtain, and by the time Bones catches up with him he’s got Jim wrapped in a quaky but delicate hug, and Jim’s frail skin and bones frame isn’t the only one shaking with tears.

  
   “I thought-” Leonard’s voice breaks.  “I thought Vulcans couldn’t cry. Didn’t have the tear ducts for it.”

  
   Spock is now carding a hand through Jim’s choppy hair, shushing the kid as he blubbers about hating having had to cut it, and it isn’t until Jim quiets significantly that Spock again speaks.

  
   “I am only half Vulcan.  As M’benga is my primary physician, it never seemed prudent to share such personal information with you.”

  
   Leonard should be mad about that.  As chief medical officer, he needs to know how best to treat every one of the crew.  He’ll probably reprimand him later.

  
   “He never told me.”

  
   “It’s in my file.”

  
   They’re talking just to fill the room, trying to cut through the tension and lighten the mood with hollow words until one of them has the strength to bring up something important, like how easy it is to count Jim’s ribs, or for Bones to talk more about the fact that Jim clings to Spock like the Vulcan is his only lifeline.

  
   “Half Vulcan, huh?  What’s the other half?”

  
   “Human,” Spock states matter of factly, eyes roving over Jim as if he could catalogue the boy’s every injury without a lick of medical equipment.  Or perhaps, as if he has been avoiding such an inventory of Jim’s person ever since first glimpsing him.  Suddenly Spock’s firmly impersonal eye contact up to this point, combined with Jim’s previous pining, has Leonard mentally poking at the phrase “closest of friends,” and Spock’s use of it.

  
   He’ll think more on that later.  For now he chokes out a laugh.

  
   “So all those times I called you an unfeeling, robotic, greenblooded-”

  
   “I assure you Doctor, my mixed lineage makes your previous behavior neither more nor less xenophobic.”

  
   “Yep, you’re still the same cold, unemotional Spock.”  Except the way the apparently half-alien is cradling the now sleeping Jim makes that a lie if ever there was one.  Bones thinks maybe he just hasn’t been looking hard enough at Spock to really see him.  No wonder Jim would always insist Spock wasn’t heartless.

  
   “I need a drink.”

  
   “You are on duty.”

  
   “It’s medical.  I’m stressed.”

  
   “Doctor?”

  
   “Yes, Spock?” He prepares himself for a lecture.

  
   “Bring me one as well.”

  
   Shit.  The situation must be more complicated than he thought.


End file.
